


Keeping the devil waiting

by Stoic_piece_of_garbage



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: But honestly it's just William's obsession, I'm just sad that those two never got to TALK to each other in canon, It doesn't make much sense, M/M, Minor William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily, Old man consequences is Henry i guess, angsty af, what am I even doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stoic_piece_of_garbage/pseuds/Stoic_piece_of_garbage
Summary: - Come sit with me for a while. You must be tired. -  the deep, strained, exhausted voice echoed around the limitless horizon. He wouldn't mistake this sound for anything else in the world. So it really was him. Henry...William finds himself in a situation when he has to confront his old business partner for the last time.Post Fnaf 6, a prelude to Willhell. But we will give him  chance to say goodbye. At least for now...
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller & Henry Emily
Kudos: 23





	Keeping the devil waiting

Keeping the devil waiting

He woke up. He wasn't sure if he had been sleeping at all, but no other expression could describe the overwhelming feeling of being pulled from one state of consciousness to another.  
So there he was: awake.  
But the question remained – what had he awaken from? Some faint memory started to form in the back of his mind. Surrounded by fire, screaming into nothingness, excommunicated from the temple of the living by a broken priest, giving his sorrowful sermon. That bastard thought a fire could cleanse this damned establishment! They all gathered there, following his deceitful call, and for what? For him to burn everything to the ground, once again. Of course, HE knew all of this was nothing more than a trap. But betrayal hurts nevertheless...  
He looked at his hands, which to his surprise were perfectly visible amidst blackness. They were once again complete, fortunately, without a single tissue missing or a wound engrained into his flesh. Even the nails were trimmed nicely, something he couldn't remember doing for a very long time. But there was one thing that struck him as strange. The outline of his hands emitted a weak purple glow. What on earth could that mean?  
Before he could think of any reasonable answer, he noticed a similarly glowing figure in the distance. Its aura was crimson red. Without giving it a second thought, he walked in its direction, steadily getting closer to the source of that light. Slowly he could see more details – it seemed to be a man, sitting by a small body of water. His hands were holding, what he could only presume to be a fishing-rode, lazily submerged in the lake. The man sat on the black ground, extending his right leg, moving his toe slightly, seemingly out of boredom. He walked even closer, and then he could precisely see what the fisherman was wearing- a pair of worn-out trousers, and a red flannel, which seemed so familiar, but of course it couldn't be it...  
\- Come sit with me for a while. You must be tired. - the deep, strained, exhausted voice echoed around the limitless horizon. He wouldn't mistake this sound for anything else in the world. So it was him.  
Damn it.

Henry. Those two syllables were the only things that could quicken his heartbeat, boil his blood, obscure his vision. From a logical point of view, William was perfectly aware that letting this insignificant man cloud his thoughts was a mistake, but who would have blamed him? This stubborn lunatic truly was his sole weakness. „Don't keep the devil waiting”! So what, did it mean that Henry was the real devil? And why would he wait for him there, after everything he had done to wreck him?  
To humiliate him, again?  
To destroy his creations, again?  
Or to wave his flag of martyrdom in front of him, his face like the Manopello image, the only true defender of justice?  
No, he wouldn't let this self-righteous bastard make a laughing stock out of him ever again! He had to stay calm no matter what. Seeing him vulnerable was probably what his „old friend” would love to see, anyway. So he proceeded to use his well trained nonchalant tone, hoping he wouldn't sound too fretful.  
\- I didn't expect you to be the one waiting here- Henry slowly turned his eyes towards him.  
\- Really? - it was hard to decide if the tone of his voice was melancholic or completely sarcastic.  
Well, you set my expectations pretty high – those damn eyes, why was he looking so sorrowful?- after all, not every day do you get an invitation to a meeting with the lord of darkness himself.  
\- So you're disappointed?  
\- Yes, I suppose you could say that – William sat on the ground, even though he couldn't see it - after all that „darkest pit of hell” nonsense I expected something a little more dramatic. However, what strikes me as odd, is the fact that you are also here. I didn't know you like fishing by a lake.  
No reaction. But he had to say something, right? There must have been a reason for him to just sit without a care in the world, in what essentially must have been some sort of limbo or maybe even purgatory. He should have already gone off to the better place, goddamnit, not taunt him What could he want?  
But Henry remained calm. As if he hadn't been listening to William at all, he put aside his pole and leaned in a little, taking his chin in his hands. His eyes seemed to had lost their spark of sadness, and instead became cold, almost glassy.  
\- Can you hear them?- he said, after a long moment of silence – if you focus, you will hear them. They're at the bottom.  
William wanted to ignore those words, but despite himself, he started listening to the void. At first, he thought that it was only his mind giving in to Henry's suggestions, like a sugar pill pretending to be a remedy, but quickly he realized, that the sound wasn't imaginary. There were multiple voices, all indistinguishable from each other, whispering something incomprehensible. But with every passing second, the voices got more powerful. William could no longer hear any words, everything became one overwhelming wave of screams and groans, ear-piercing cries for mercy that got louder and louder, reminding him of the last shouts of all the children he...  
William's hands jerked frantically, trying to cover his ears. Before he could do that, however, he felt a sudden grip on his wrist. His eyes followed the hand to see Henry's face. He met the gaze of those brown eyes, so stoic, yet so determined. The unkempt hair formed some kind of a broken halo around his face. Even though William would never admit that he always found that man to partially belong to the sphere of the sacred. Like the lowest, most pathetic of angels.  
But this anger was what allowed him to avert his thoughts from the screams, and suddenly everything went silent once again. His puls slowed down, and he just waited for something to happen.

\- So you can hear it too. That's reassuring. Maybe I haven't completely lost my mind – Henry's lips twisted into something resembling a little smile - The sound here clearly doesn't follow the laws of physics. The fact that you can only hear certain things when you're concentrated on them, seems to indicate that the whole process of hearing takes place directly between the minds of participants, without any need for soundwaves or anything. Hell, maybe air doesn't exist here at all! And your breathing right now might be completely unnecessary, a matter of habit perhaps. You're desperately clinging to the last human characteristic you possess, even though it was you who always wanted to set himself above all of mankind. Isn't it fascinating, what you have become?  
William just sat there and listened while his ex-business partner spoke with that firm but also a little ethereal tone he knew so well. How on earth could he ramble on and on, almost as if they were back at their drawing board, discussing technical matters, gears and cranks, costs and taxes, hopes and anxieties? Why was he treating all of that like an interesting discovery? Was he really that delusional or did he do that just to mess with his head?  


\- This is the other place, isn't it?- William looked back a the lake.  
\- If by „other place” you mean „hell”, then yes, you're not mistaken – he said the with a slight air of sarcasm.  
\- Why are you here? - William couldn't keep his composure any longer – I was certain, that you wouldn't want to see me ever again, after everything that happened. What do you want from me? Apologies? Remorse? Do you expect me to fall on my knees, begging for your forgiveness like the prodigal son? - each of his words was dripping with poison, filled to the brink with unspecified anger, which he had been nurturing for the last 40 years – if you really want to see me suffer, then do it, but for God's sake, don't pretend to be better than me!  
\- I don't want you to pretend to be sorry. I hoped you would be aware of that. I just wanted to speak to you for the last time. No expectations, no hopes, just a pragmatic need to close this case. Forever.  
So he really wouldn't leave him alone, would he?  
In that case, he must do whatever is in his might to make him regret this decision...


End file.
